Spiraling
by Dramaholic74
Summary: Teddy has struggled with depression for as long as he could remember. At the age of eleven, he finds himself in a battle with bulimia, a battle he wasn't so sure he was ready to fight against. Trigger warning.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All rights belong to J.K. Rowling.

The first time he did it, he was quite surprised. Not because of what he had done, but rather because of how good it felt. All of the sadness washed away, and a euphoric happiness came over him. For the first time since he was a small child, he felt happy.

Not even receiving his Hogwarts letter had made him feel this way, nor had the births of his godfather's children, or riding his first broomstick. The sadness had crept in when he was young; it was hard for him to remember the last time he had felt happy. His grandmother and godfather noticed almost immediately that something was wrong, and by the age of ten, he had seen multiple therapists.

Yet, nothing worked.

His grandmother had given up. Harry, however, persisted. But Teddy had been unable to talk; he couldn't bear to burden his godfather, even if Harry was his best friend and confidant.

At the age of eleven, he began turning to food for comfort. The taste, smell, and even sight of food made him forget all of his problems and made him feel good. Teddy vowed that he wouldn't let it get out of control. Little by little, though, the amount of food he ate increased.

And one day, something had snapped.

He had gotten into an argument with Harry, who had asked, yet again, if he was okay and needed to talk. Rationally, Teddy knew that Harry had every right to be worried, but he was unable to force himself to think that way. Getting uncharacteristically defensive, Teddy had yelled at him, telling him that it was none of his business and to stay out of it.

He angrily Flooed home and immediately walked to the kitchen. His grandmother wasn't home; she wouldn't be back for hours. He had plenty of time.

Remembering his first binge -well, every binge- made him feel deeply ashamed. He felt guilty for screaming at his godfather in such a way, yet anger was boiling his blood. And so he began to eat. Two bags of chips, a tub of ice cream, two donuts, six Chocolate Frogs, a Sugar Quill, a banana, a pumpkin pasty and some milk...

He had been so consumed in eating that he didn't even notice the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. He knew that he had eaten too much, but he couldn't bring himself to care. All he knew was that he needed to get rid of this uncomforable feeling.

Books had been his source of comfort before he had lost interest and turned to food. Little had he known that a book would give him his best (at the time) idea yet.

The first time had been difficult. The girl in the book had made it seem so easy, so painless. Finally, he succeeded.

The rush followed straight after. He felt as though he were on top of the world, and nothing could ever bring him down. The sadness washed away, and a euphoric happiness replaced it. All was finally right in the world.

Too soon, he came crashing down and feelings of shame and guilt overcame him. What had he done? He promised himself then and there that it would never happen again.

That was six years ago, and it had happened again. And again, and again. He couldn't stop, even if he wanted to.

But if Teddy was honest with himself, he wasn't even sure if he wanted to stop anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All rights to Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling.

**A/N: **Okay, I know you all probably thinking I'm an idiot for just skipping two years. The timeline will definitely jump around a lot, but I do have a plan. Just bear with me.

It was a secret he wanted to take to the grave, but logically he knew that it was impossible. Someone would have to find out eventually, whether he told someone or he was caught.

Years later, he would wonder how no one had noticed for such a long time. His grandmother never said anything, and he lived with her for five days a week during holidays and the summer. Harry and Ginny never noticed, and he stayed over their house every single weekend he wasn't at Hogwarts.

So how had he managed to get away with it for two years without being caught?

Teddy shook his head. Had he really been stuck in this hell for two years already? To him, it seemed like at least ten years had passed since all of this had started. But no, it had only been two years since his life had gotten out of control. Very quickly, he had begun to wish that he had never purged for the first time.

At first, it was great. He was able to escape the sadness and feel happy, even if it was only for a short while. While binging, he felt embarrassed. Never before had he ever known that he could eat so much, yet he had. Then the anxiety set in, and he _had _to get rid of the food. Purging was what brought on that feeling of euphoria, but just minutes later, he felt guilty, disgusting, and ashamed.

He hadn't known that the first time wouldn't be the last. He hadn't known that by his twelfth birthday, he would be binging and purging up to five times a day.

Starting school at Hogwarts hadn't been a hinderance, like the thought it might be. Within his first week, he had found the Room of Requirement, desperately needing to binge and purge. If he couldn't, he didn't know what he would do. He had been anxiously pacing the hallway, ripping out tufts of hair when he saw it.

A door had mysteriously appeared where a wall had been just seconds before. Curiously, he opened it and couldn't believe his eyes. Inside was more food than he had ever seen, even at the start-of-term feast. In the left corner was a door. He walked in and ran towards the door. This wasn't possible.

Opening the door, he discovered that it was a bathroom. Without a second thought, he began grabbing food.

He bagan going there multiple times every day. In between classes, during breaks, right after class, after dinner...

Finding the Room of Requirement had been the worst thing that could have happened. Here, he could binge and purge and no one would know. At the time, it was a blessing. His friends would never find out, nor would any teachers. What could be better than that?

Now, at the age of thirteen, he began thinking that it wasn't so great. He knew he had a problem, but he just couldn't stop. And knowing that he had this room made it worse, as it only fueled the need. Before he knew it, he was going there up to nine or ten times a day, even skipping class in order to binge and purge.

He was only thirteen, but he felt old. The constant purging had begun to take its effect on his body. His teeth were rotting, no matter how he chose to have his hair that day it always fell out; he felt like his whole body was a block of lead. His stomach and throat constantly hurt. The scariest part was that he was constantly dizzy.

He leaned over the toilet bowl and purged for the fourth time that day. It had become like second nature to him; he didn't even need his fingers anymore. He quickly did a double take.

Had he just purged blood?


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

**A/N: **Sorry for my lack of updates, everyone! College is crazy.

* * *

_Harry,_

_I know you probably won't understand anything I'm saying in this letter, but I really don't know where else to go. I can't talk to Nan about this...She'd never look at me the same. You probably won't either, but I've always been able to talk to you. But I can't do it face-to-face. I couldn't bear to see the look on your face when I tell you. So I'm leaving this on your dresser before I leave to go back to school. Some Gryffindor I am, right? I can't even talk to my own godfather about my problems. Anyway, I guess I should get on with it, right?_

_I need help with something...Actually, a few somethings. I know you're going to be mad when I tell you -or, at the very least, sad- but I just need to tell you because I can't lie anymore. So I'll just say it, I guess..._

_I eat a lot of food and make myself throw up afterwards. And when I say a lot, I don't mean Ron's version of a lot. I mean much more than that. It's all started to make me really sick, physically. _

_I've been throwing up blood a lot...And my heart just pounds rapidly, almost like it's going to beat out of my chest. I feel dizzy and weak and just SICK._

_The puking has been going on since I was eleven; since a few months before I started at Hogwarts. Three years. I don't know what's wrong with me. I just feel so sad all the time...and I just _hate _being Teddy. I hate being me. I hate myself._

_Am I crazy? I must be if I'm doing this stuff. My mum and dad must be so embarrassed and ashamed...Ashamed to have me as their son. I let them down. _

_I probably just wasted ten minutes of your time. I'm sorry. I just honestly don't know where else to turn. I just know that I can't do this anymore. I honestly feel out of control, and I'm not safe. I'm just so tired._

_-Teddy_

Teddy sighed and read over his words. How stupid was this? How stupid was _he_? He had always been able to tell Harry everything, and now he was resorting to writing him a fucking letter. He didn't feel like a Gryffindor. He felt like anything but. Stupid, anxious, afraid...

Worthless.

Downstairs, Lily squealed with laughter as her father made funny noises. He ran his hands through his hair. Jealousy pulsed through his veins. How could she be so happy and he so sad? Why couldn't he ever remember being that happy? Children are supposed to be happy, and yet, he could only remember being sad. All the time.

James and Albus were happy children, too. And Rose and Hugo. Come to think of it, all of the Weasley-Potter kids were happy and bright. It seemed as though he was the only one who felt the way he did. Unhappy, stupid, cowardly,_ fat._ And so he locked himself upstairs in the guest bedroom on the third floor of Harry and Ginny's house, not wanting to bother everyone with his negativity.

Too bad that didn't last long.

He fought back tears as he heard a knock at the door. Everything was so overwhelming, even just speaking. He just wanted to be left alone.

"Teddy? Can I come in?"

He sat up and scrambled to find a place to hide the letter. He couldn't let anyone find it, not here; not now.

"Teddy?"

"Come in," he said, shoving the letter under his pillow.

Harry opened the door and closed it as he made his way over to the bed. Teddy refused to look him in the eye. He knew what was coming. It always went this way. His hands began to shake.

Harry sat on the bed and leaned on the wall. An awkward silence consumed them. Teddy thought he was about to leave until-

"You missed dinner again."

_Well so much for beating around the bush. _"I just wasn't hungry."

His godfather sighed and turned to face him. "You're never hungry anymore. You look like you've lost thirty pounds since September...You look like you haven't slept in weeks, and you've been shut up in here for the past two days. You never talk to me anymore, or Ginny. You don't play with the kids like you used to. You just seem uninterested." Harry gripped Teddy's shaking hands. "Teddy, are you okay?"

_No. I'm fucking losing it. Please help me. _"Yeah, I'm fine. I've just been stressed." He could have kicked himself. Another lie.

Harry frowned. "Stressed about what?"

_Just the fact that I hate myself and I make myself throw up six times a day. _"You know, school stuff. Quidditch. Stuff like that."

Teddy's heart hammered. Harry was looking at him as though he had grown two heads; he evidently wasn't buying it.

"You're not telling me the truth, are you? C'mon, Ted. Just talk to me. I'm worried."

_You should be. _

He looked up and met his godfather's eyes. It wasn't often that he admitted to feeling scared or worried. Was he really causing that much trouble? Harry was looking at him with concern. It was a look Teddy had seen from him a lot recently. Maybe he could tell him.

"What's there to tell? Everything's fine, Harry. Really. I'll come down in a minute." Was that a smile on his face?

Harry looked skeptical. "Why won't you just talk to me, Teddy?"

Anger flooded through his entire body. "Because there's nothing to talk about, okay?! I'm fine! I'll be downstairs in a second. Just leave me alone, okay?" _Please, please help me. I can't do this anymore._

Hurt, frustration and anger flashed across his godfather's face. _Good_. _It's better this way._

"Fine."

Teddy watched as Harry stalked out of the room. He took a shaky breath and laid on the bed. Why did he always have to fuck everything up? Why couldn't he just talk to Harry? Harry showed concern for him, and he gets repaid with anger. _Way to fucking go, Teddy. Now you have him pissed off._

Teddy reached under his pillow and stared at the letter. After a minute of inner debate, he tore it into pieces. Forget asking for help.

He was the worst godson in existence, and he didn't deserve any help.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Teddy wiped the sweat off of his forehead and sighed. Blood, _again_. The sight of the blood should have scared him, and it did, to an extent. But he wouldn't dare tell a soul about it. Not after he had backed out of telling his godfather.

When he was twelve, he never would have imagined that his life would be this way. He never thought making himself throw up would become an addiction. But he found himself unable to stop, no matter how badly he wanted to.

He wasn't quite sure he wanted to stop anymore, anyway.

It seemed as though everything was slowly spiraling out of control. His friends were highly suspicious; he was skipping class to go throw up. He felt more depressed than ever, and he seemed to have lost interest in everything. His grades slipped, his athlectic abilities suffered...His desire to get help suffered.

Death had been on the back of his mind for months. It scared him, much like throwing up blood used to. He knew that he had been getting worse, but he never thought it would come to this. But they were just fleeting thoughts, so he didn't have to say anything, right?

He had hoped that would be the case. It wasn't until it became a serious option that he considered just how awful having those thoughts were. He only knew that he never wanted to feel that horrible again, and so he had written his godfather a letter asking for help.

At first, Teddy regretted it. He knew that Harry would have helped him, even if he made Teddy tell his Nan in the process. If telling adults was what he had to do in order to feel better, he would have done it. Instead, he had shouted at Harry and torn up the letter.

In the few months since then, the thoughts only grew stronger, and he felt absolutely awful. He couldn't even begin to describe how it felt. Only that there was no light at the end of the tunnel, and he wanted so badly to be dead.

_I thought fourteen year-olds were supposed to be out with their friends, going to school, and playing Quidditch, not wanting to kill themselves. If being fourteen is this shitty, I hate to see what being fifteen will be like._

It seemed strange that he would be fifteen in a matter of weeks. It would mark his fourth year of this hell. His fourth year of keeping secrets, of lying to his friends and family. He didn't know how much longer he could keep up the charade. His happy facade was crumbling; that had been proven over Christmas break. He would catch his friends whispering, and whenever he would make his presence known, they would stop. They were getting closer and closer to figuring out his secret, and he didn't like it one bit. He had given up on getting help.

He wasn't worth it. Who was he to mess up so many lives? Who was he to push all of his problems onto others? Instead, he pushed everyone away. He wanted this to be his problem, and his alone.

No one could ever find out, not even his family. Nothing would ever be the same, and they would see him for what he truly was: A selfish, stupid, loser who was too deep into his own problems. He did everything he could to prevent anyone from finding out.

With a pang, he remembered how he hadn't purged at all over Christmas break. He didn't want any of the kids catching him, let alone Harry or Ginny. And so he had forced himself to keep his food down. He loathed the holidays. He was forced to eat and he couldn't do anything about it. For hours, he would lie in bed, shaking from anxiety. He _had _to purge, had to get it all out so that he wouldn't get fat. But he couldn't.

Teddy leaned over the toilet and purged once more, though he was sure there wasn't any food left. _Since when can I do it without using my fingers? _

Immediately, happiness washed over him. He felt as though he could fly; he felt excited and light, something that he hadn't felt in such a long time.

It was over too soon. Much too soon. He had noticed that the euphoria didn't last as long, anymore. Only a few seconds. It used to last for a couple of hours. For hours, he felt oddly happy. He could do things without great effort; he was interested in what was happening around him. Now, however, it might as well have never happened at all. Within seconds, he was back in the hopeless pit of despair.

He was so tired. For the first time in years, Teddy leanded his forehead on the brim of the toilet and cried. He wanted nothing more than to sleep forever; to be dead.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

_Teddy,_

_This is the fifth letter I've gotten from one of your professors telling me that you've been slacking off and that they're quite concerned about you. You're just as smart as your mum and dad, so I don't quite understand why you've been doing so poorly. Stop being lazy, Edward Remus, or I swear I'll bring you home, education be damned. Your mother never slacked off this much; why are you? Don't you feel like your education is important? I didn't raise you to be this way. Pick up a book, and work harder. I don't want another owl telling me that my grandson's grades are dropping._

_I know you're probably angry with me after reading this, but I just want what's best for you. I love you so much, Teddy. I've given up everything for you, even though I could never replace Nymphadora and Remus. I'm not your mother, and I never will be, but I try so hard. They'd be disappointed. I'm disappointed. So pick those grades up._

_They also say that you just don't seem happy and that you look physically ill. Also that you've been skipping class. Why would you do that?I thought you were better than that. Stop skipping, and bring those grades up. I know you may not believe me after this, but I do love you, Teddy._

_Love,_

_Nan_

Teddy put his head in his hands. He'd been waiting for this letter for awhile, but that didn't soften the blow at all. Not by a long shot. The tension between himself and his grandmother had been high for quite some time now, and he knew things would only get worse. They fought about everything: His grades, his clothes, his hobbies, his personality. The fact that he wasn't more like his mother.

He pondered this as he angrily speared his eggs with a fork. It didn't seem like she cared about him at all. She only cared about his grades. She didn't want to hear about _why _he was failing. She never considered that there may be something serious going on with him. It was always laziness, in her opinion. Teddy smirked to himself as he imagined telling Nan everything that had been happening for the past four years.

_"Sorry, Nan, I've just been skipping class so that I can go eat and puke, I'm so sad that I can barely concentrate, and I've been fighting the urge to kill myself for weeks now. But I'll bring up my grades."_

Andromeda always had a way of making him feel awful about himself, whether it was intentional or not. Even when he was a young child, she was always comparing him to his mother.

"_Nymphadora did this, your mother was that. Why can't you be more like her, Teddy?"_

No, he was just like his father, both in looks and personality. His mother was loud and cheerful, while he was more closed off and shy. They were both smart, but his mother was more street smart, while his father had knowledge of things no person should ever know about.

He knew just how much a human being could hate themselves. He knew what it was like to look in the mirror and _loathe _what he saw. The only difference was that Teddy had absolutely no reason to feel this way. Nobody ever looked at him with disgust. Nobody was prejudiced against him. And yet, he had inherited his tendency to self-hate from his father.

It seemed strange to him that humans could hate themselves so much. Everyone had flaws, so what was the point in hating themselves over them? It seemed stupid to him. Yet here he was, constantly making himself throw up because he hated himself.

It was never about his reflection. He could change his looks anytime he wanted due to the fact that he was a Metamorphagus, but he was proud of the fact that he looked like his father, so he rarely changed anything. It was all on the inside. He was stupid, annoying, unfunny, worthless, he never said the right thing at the right time, he was never good enough...

He didn't belong anywhere.

Teddy glanced over at his friends. Alexia, Felicity, Tom, and Lorraine all complemented each other perfectly. Their witty and sarcastic personalities balanced, and here he was, quieter, even in his sense of humor. It was almost as though they were all best friends, and he was just there, taking up space. They didn't want someone like _him _around...

As much as he tried to deny it, their distance hurt. Nothing had been the same since the beginning of fourth year. They talked to him less, they included him less...All the while getting closer with each other.

He supposed it was his fault, as well. But they could never understand. He _had _to distance himself. He had to lie to them, had to pretend that he didn't care. This...whatever it was, was his problem. He couldn't let his friends get involved; he couldn't let his family get involved. This was his problem, and he had to be the one to fix it. Only he wasn't sure how.

"Teddy? Oi, Teddy! You have another letter there, mate."

He started at the sound of Tom's voice. The others laughed, and he felt himself turn scarlet. The owl hooted impatiently, and Teddy leaned over to tie it from his leg.

"Sorry," he said, giving the owl a piece of toast. The owl spread his wings and was off. Teddy stared at it for a moment, wishing he could fly away from all of his problems. With a sigh, Teddy opened the letter.

_Teddy,_

_Neville wrote to me a few days ago. He told me that your grades are dropping, and that you 'look gaunt, exhausted, and sickly.' He told me that he's tried talking to you, but you insisted you were fine. Are you really fine, Teddy? Judging from Christmas break, I don't think so. You looked very ill then, and you stayed in your room most of the time. And whenever you were with us, you just seemed very upset about something. That's not like you, Teddy. Are things between you and your grandmother still bad? Does she have you stressed out? I'm sorry for all of the questions, Teddy. I'm just worried about you, and the amount of arguments you two get in really isn't good. I've told her that you're not your parents, but she just won't listen to me. If she's stressing you out, you can always come here at the end of term. You know we all love having you here._

_If it's not your Nan, then what is it? You can tell me anything. _

_I'm not going to harp too much about your grades, but I would like to see them going up. You're a very intelligent kid, and I know there's something going on with you, otherwise your grades would never be dropping._

_-Harry_

Teddy pushed his plate away, his stomach churning with anxiety. Professor Longbottom had actually told Harry that he looked terrible...Professor Longbottom thought he looked terrible...Professor Longbottom was catching on too quickly, despite Teddy's insistence that he was fine. If he caught on, then he would tell Nan. And Nan...Who knows how she'd react? Who's to say that she wouldn't kick him out? He'd have nowhere to go...He couldn't bear to burden the Potters with this; they'd just get sick of it and kick him out too. Teddy's breath began to quicken; he had to get out of there.

"Where are you going?"

_Goddammit, Felicity, fuck off. _"I don't feel well. I'll be right back."

"But, Teddy, we-"

"I said I'll be right back!"

"We wanted to talk to yo-"

_I need to puke; please, please go away. If I don't throw up, I'll explode. _"Just talk to me at dinner!"

He quickly turned away and sprinted out of the hall, not bothering to see if anyone had followed him. He was reaching a breaking point. He was so _stupid; _everyone was probably talking about him right now. Everyone was sure to be laughing at stupid, annoying Teddy Lupin. He felt more anxious than ever. Forget the Room of Requirement; he'd have to purge in the first place he found.

Only after he purged did he realize that he had locked himself in a broom cupboard and puked into a bucket. For the second time that morning, Teddy started. He had never purged in such an odd place before. Nor had he ever purged without binging. For the first time, he had purged a regular meal.

Perhaps he was addicted after all.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: Huge trigger warning for this chapter.

* * *

_Is it September first yet?_

He had been home for less than an hour, and already he longed to be back at Hogwarts. He dreaded summer more and more with each passing year. It seemed that every time he tried to fix his relationship with his grandmother, he only made things worse. It seemed that every time they tried to even talk to each other, things just got worse.

_Stupid. Screw up._

He had decided to approach his Nan with a forced smile. Maybe if she thought he was happy, she would back off. No such luck.

_"You brought up your grades, I see. Still barely passed, but it'll have to do. Stop looking so unhappy, Teddy; it's summer. Or is it me? Are you still angry with me?"_

_Teddy took a deep breath before he answered. He should have known..."I'm fine, Nan. Just tired."_

_"Your mother never looked this sullen at the beginning of summer."_

_"Mum and I are two different people, Nan."_

That had merely been an annoyance. He was used to Andromeda nitpicking at everything he did, though he wished it didn't have to be that way. No, what had happened after they arrived home was worse.

_"Teddy, don't put your stuff upstairs just yet. I want to have a word."_

_His heart clenched in fear. Did he still reek of vomit? Did he forget to brush his teeth or something? He knew he shouldn't have thrown up before leaving school..._

_"W-what about?" _

_Andromeda crossed her arms and sat down on the sofa. "Many of your professors have been writing to Harry and I lately. They're very worried about you. They said that your friends came to them expressing some concerns..."_

_Merlin's beard..."Concerns about what?" Maybe if he acted nonchalant and unconcerned, he'd be let off the hook. He tried to ignore the pounding in his chest, his shaking hands._

_"Teddy...Your friends seem to be thinking that you've been making yourself throw up. They've had these suspicions for quite a long time."_

_Was it hot in here? "Yeah, they told Professors Longbottom and McGonagall. They talked to me about it already. So did my friends. I haven't been."_

_Andromeda narrowed her eyes. "Teddy, I don't believe you. It's obvious you've been losing weight..."_

_Holy crap, he was about to pass out. "I've just been under a lot of stress, Nan. I'm okay; don't worry."_

_Andromeda stood and attempted to pull him to her. "Teddy," she said softly, "Please just tell me? I'm your grandmother; you can tell me anything. I love you so much..."_

_He pushed her away. "I try to talk to you all the time and you just compare me to Mum! It's not my fault that I'm not like her! Sorry you didn't like Dad, but that doesn't mean you have to take it out on me for being like him! And if you love me so much, why do you always make me feel like I'm- Why do you always criticize me?"_

_Everything he had wanted to say for years came pouring out. As soon as he said it, he regretted it. His grandmother looked more furious than ever._

_"Edward Remus, don't you ever talk to me like that. Get out of my sight. And if I hear you making yourself sick, you're in big trouble!_

And so here he was, lying on his bed, wishing that he were someone, anyone, else. He couldn't bear to be in his own skin; he couldn't stand himself; never before had he _hated _himself so much...

He sometimes wondered how it was possible for anyone to love him. He was nothing but a failure. He couldn't please his family, he couldn't keep his grades up, he couldn't play Quidditch well anymore; he couldn't eat anything without throwing it up. His family deserved better than him.

_I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this._

His breath came in short gasps; he felt trapped. He had to do something to get rid of this pain. Purging was out of the question; he didn't want to make his grandmother angrier. He needed to hurt, to make himself suffer. He made his family hurt, and so he needed to make himself hurt. His chest ached; there was nothing he could do to stop this madness inside of him. No way to escape the pain he had been going through for years...

His eyes caught the mirror in his bathroom. The shards of glass cut into his knuckles as he punched the mirror, and he suddenly felt euphoric. The feeling that he had once gotten from purging had come back, all because he had cut his knuckles on the glass. He dragged his left arm against the glass, relishing the feeling. He barely heard the voices coming from downstairs, making their way from the basement to the living room.

"Honestly, Andromeda, I'm really worried..."

"So am I, but he just won't talk to me. I know he hasn't talked to you yet, but I'm not exactly his favorite person." The voice stopped. Who was talking?

Then, the other voice spoke. "I'll try again. See what I can do. But you need to make things right with him. He needs you."

A sigh. Then, "I know. Thank you, Harry. For talking to him."

Harry? Harry, who?

_Oh, shit. _He began coming down from the haze that had overcome him. His godfather would walk in and see him, covered in his own blood, glass all over the floor. How would he get out of this one? How could he possibly explain himself?

The stairs creaked under Harry's weight. Teddy scrambled to bolt the bathroom door shut before Harry saw him.

Footsteps sounded from the bedroom, then a knock came. "Teddy? Are you alright?"

There was so much blood. "Yeah. I'm okay." He felt so weak.

"Will you let me in?"

"No!"

He had spoken too quickly. Harry wasn't stupid; he was sure to know that something was wrong. But if he let Harry in, Harry would see the mess. He would surely think Teddy was mental; he would never speak to him again.

"Teddy, I'll unlock the door myself if I have to. I know you're hiding from me."

_No, no, no please don't. You'll think I'm crazy...Fucking crazy...I can't deal with you hating me, too._

"Please, just leave me alone." Why were his eyes so wet?

The door unlocked and swung open. He heard the crunch of glass under his godfather's feet.

"What the hell?! Teddy! What on earth did you do?"

Suddenly, Harry was kneeling right in front of Teddy, seemingly not caring about the glass cutting into his legs. Teddy felt Harry yank his arm and hand. His face was suddenly wet.

"Teddy, did you do this to yourself?" He met Harry's eye and quickly looked down.

His godfather was _crying_. Harry Potter, savior of the Wizarding World, was crying because his godson had gone and hurt himself. His stupid, worthless, pathetic, godson.

"Teddy, please answer me." Harry gently touched his chin and made it so that they were looking directly at each other. Teddy hated seeing him cry, yet he felt himself nod anyway. _I made him cry. I made him cry, and now he hates me, and he'll never want to be near me again because he thinks I'm crazy._

He barely heard Harry's next question. "Why?"

That was a good question. He himself didn't really know why he had done it. He needed a release and it felt so _good_. But he was also so _tired. _

Instead of answering, he threw his arms around Harry and began to sob. He couldn't take the pain anymore; he didn't want to struggle just to wake up in the morning anymore.

"Please help me. _Please, please, help me._"

Harry hugged him tight and ran his fingers through Teddy's hair. "I'll get you help, Teddy. I'll get you help."

Neither of them knew how long they sat on the bathroom floor. Long after he had stopped crying, Teddy clung to his godfather, needing him now more than ever.


End file.
